04-29-2006, 03:25 AM
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#1
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AF Regular
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 347
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A Streetracer's Tale
Check out this eroticized translation of a street race that can be as if it were ripped right out of a romance novel. 
Quote:
He brushed his taught, tanned fingers softly over the supple mound of the KARTBOY knob. Slowly, he shifted his gaze one last time from the stoplight to the dark figure in the Civic next to him. His insides churned and his loins swelled. Only the distant howl of a siren and rustling of discarded newspaper on the dank sidwalk broke the eery calm. The charcoal shadows thrown from the streetlights over the garbage cans were the only witnesses to his passion--his carnal desires!
Only minutes earlier he was minding his own business, doing two--maybe even three--miles per hour under the speed limit. It was then that he heard the lustful buzz of the aftermarket exhaust. He knew in his soul and in his flesh that it was a late 90s Civic with a 3" pipe. He'd had them before, and they were always satisfying... satisfying until the thrill had subsided and the craving filled his manhood once again.
It was fate, he was sure, that they both ended up at the intersection together. It was fate that there were no other cars on the road. It was fate that conditions were good. He knew it to be true! He could feel his feet trembling in anticipation of the hot, thrusting motion of the pistons.
Just then, the opposing light turned yellow. The moment of ecstasy was nigh! He jammed the clutch pedal to the floor as a gutteral moan crossed his lips. His balls ached with a reptilian desire that demanded quenching! Would it be an immediate change to green, or would there be a delay? He must seize the moment, but he feared the "premature launch" which would deminish the conquest at his fingertips!
The opposing light turned red and immediately his light turned green. He knew that the dark figure next to him wanted the hard, relentless pressure of the racing seat against its backside as much as he did. He bounced the the tachometer off the rev limiter once and released the clutch with a passionate heave of his foot.
The frenzy of lust and acceleration was almost too much to bear! He told himself not to miss a shift, he must make this moment last--but not too long. His mind swirled and raced, as did the blood through his now erect manhood--like velvet-covered steel!
He mashed on the gas and, as he had anticipated, the headlights of his quarry began to fade behind him. He only took it to five miles per hour over the speed limit--because he is a good and safe driver; even when he street races. At that moment he knew it was over. He took his hand from the virbating stick and activated the hazzard lights but for a moment. And then... he allowed himself to breath once more.
The craving had been fed--for now.
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proud owner of a 2003 Ford Mustang GT
Snake Shooter
